Transformers Breastfeeding Chronicles
by Camfield
Summary: Based on a LJ prompt.  This will be a series of vignettes based on breastfeeding AND OR kink. Chapter ratings will vary from K to M, characters will vary.  Various bots with various 'sparkling feeding equipment' will be involved.  Family, Comfort, Kink...
1. Mirage, Bumblebee

This is based on the prompt here http :/ tfanon kink. livejour /7561 .html? thread= 8445 065# t844 5065

Since this is obviously NOT what the OP was asking for, I decided to post here and on my LJ in a series of my own vignettes, similar to what the lovely AnonAuthor is doing over on the meme. If you like this, you should check out the original fill, it is beautiful.

**Universe:** G1  
><strong>Characters:<strong> Bumblebee, Mirage  
><strong>Rating:<strong> K  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> 'Breastfeeding' with robots having semi accurate human breasts. Heavy comfort kink.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> I claim nothing but my own poor writing and ideas.

* * *

><p>It had started with Bumblebee coming on board the Ark as a sparkling.<p>

With so much to do and mechs coming and going so frequently, there were often very few who were around with any regularity at all. For a sparkling who needed preprocessed energon directly from an older bot's lnes, that meant that he was passed off more times than he cared to admit.

Now that Bumblebee was older, however, it was a constant source of comfort to be able to slip into other bot's rooms for a snuggle and a snack.

Ratchet blamed it on being brought up during wartime and Bumblebee refused to question the only thing that truly made him feel safe, but no one questioned 'creature comforts' when there were so little to go around. They simply activated their feeding lines and snuggled him close.

It was rather late, but there were still mecha in the rec room when Bumblebee slipped in. He slinked along the edge of the room until he was standing next to an empty chair, a downcast look on his face.

No one was surprised when Mirage appeared and settled into the chair, chest plate dividing and parting in the middle before shifting to the side and revealing two special energon lines that started filling and engorging with a rich, bright fuschia mix.

Bumblebee carefully crawled into Mirage's open arms and laid his head on the spy's smooth shoulder as he watched the lines fill and expand into pendulously weighted pouches, the attached feeding nub beginning to glow as they reached readiness.

He gently smoothed shaking hands over the pouches and nubs, petting and cooing as he snuggled down to lay his head in the crook of Mirage's elbow, one hand moving to stroke the smooth abdomen and the other caressing the opposite pouch.

Mirage smoothed his hand over Bumblebee and pressed a kiss to the minibot's forehead, making soft shushing noises as he petted the soft hiccupping sobs out of his friend and fellow spy.

When Bumblebee finally latched on to the gently dripping nub, he shuddered and tucked himself as close as he could to Mirage's body. Taking all the comfort that his fellow spy was willing to offer with a level of trust and gratitude that never failed to amaze the bot it was directed at.

Many other mecha looked on, taking comfort in Bumblebee's obvious comfort/pleasure. This was something that they all could do to help their youngest member through the war, and it was something that they all did willingly.


	2. HoundCliffjumper

**Universe:** G1  
><strong>Characters:<strong> Hound/Cliffjumper  
><strong>Rating:<strong> M  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> 'Breastfeeding' with robots having semi accurate human breasts. Heavy comfort kink. Sticky.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> I claim nothing but my own poor writing and ideas.

* * *

><p>Living with mecha for a long period of time meant that you got to know your comrades ins and outs fairly well.<p>

After vorns of being confined to the Ark, there were certain things that were known facts to everyone.

One: Ratchet can and WILL reformat you into something that was only previously known as an inanimate object (See object 1-toaster)

Two: Optimus Prime has a burning need to protect his soldiers even at the cost to himself, even when those soldier's orders are to protect their Prime at the cost of their lives.

Three: Keep the peace. Making another mech mad at you when you have to live with them on a constant basis makes everyone unhappy, so DON'T DO IT.

With these also came personal knowledge of each mech. Who needed what to keep stable, who started getting antsy without action, who needed quiet to re-center themselves to the strain of the war.

It became second nature to move and maneuver in and around each mecha's eccentricies, helping out where they could in the name of peaceful spaceship living.

* * *

><p>Clifjumper was sitting on the couch, surrounded by many of the other minibots, raging about something.<p>

What, no one was really sure. He had degraded into furious mumbling some time ago that was only punctuated occasionally by louder outbursts.

What everyone did know what that sooner or later, Hound would come by and take Cliffjumper away and when they both returned he would be much more amicable until the cycle came around again.

"Come on 'Jumper, you know you'll feel better afterward."

Cliffjumper just growled at Hound, a petulant look on his face. It would have been out of place completely to those who didn't know what was going on, but to Hound it was merely another sign that he had let it go too long.

Again.

"I'm not a fragging sparkling. I don't need you and your misplaced kindness, _Hound_. Now slag off!"

Hound merely collected Cliffjumper in his arms and carried the flailing Minibot back to his quarters, nodding at the slight smiles and turned faceplates that he passed.

He'd already activated his feeding protocols, and could feel the gentle drip of the energon as he let them both into his quarters and situated himself on the berth. Hound carefully shuffled the armor out of the way and put Cliffjumper down, the minibot spitting in frustration but unable to leave the room by himself.

Fully exposed, Hound made himself comfortable on the berth. Lying on his side, head propped in his hand as he watched 'Jumper pace like a trapped animal.

"I'll be here when you're ready 'Jumper."

And with those words, Hound settled down into recharge. His exposed feeding equipment glowing brightly in the otherwise darkened room, nubs dripping sweetened energon onto a special mat that absorbed it before it could soak the berth padding.

Cliffjumper snarled, eyes shifting to take in the nubs before breaking off and sweeping the room. Every time this happened he fought it, and every time it happened he inevitably cracked and caved.

Hound offered him the one thing he fought so hard for in other mecha, respect. Hound was too altruistic to do anything deceptive to his friends, so when he had learned that Cliffjumper's mate had been killed in one of the raids he simply offered what comfort he could. Not out of pity, there was no place for that in a war, no Hound offered because he had also lost someone important during the raids and this had been one of their rituals.

Hound _trusted_ Cliffjumper to expose himself and recharge while they were in his room.

What had first been offered as interfacing had evolved into this… ritual of trust and respect. Cliffjumper knew that he had both in the scout, and even though he knew he would never be able to replace his lost mate (Hound had expressed the same) this afforded them both a measure of control in a war that kept most things out of control.

So Cliffjumper caved. Released his anger and frustration and crawled into the berth beside Hound and gently stroked the pouches, fondling them to stir up the mix and activate the electric charge.

Hands running over Hound's exposed elements Cliffjumper found that it took him less and less time to break each time. Perhaps the small admission that he needed this as much as Hound did was another part of the ritual, of the implicit trust he felt in this room.

He nuzzled and licked the closest nub, tongue flickering out to catch a drop of energon before it fell.

He curled his lower body, tucking a leg between Hound's much larger ones to rest it against the apex of the green thighs.

Some nights he was content to just drink and bask in the glow of his friend's comforting frame.

Some nights he was not.

As Cliffjumper continued slowly licking up the dripping energon, nuzzling a pouch every now and then, he slowly began to slide his leg over the scout's interfacing panel, timing the long strokes inbetween the shorter rasps of his tongue over the sensitized nubs.

Hound's engine rumbled, the larger mech still in recharge though his body was beginning to heat up under Cliffjumper's ministrations.

This was something that was taken ever so slowly.

Hound rocking gently against Cliffjumper's leg, hands now smoothing themselves over the red plating in long, languorous strokes that weren't meant to arouse at all.

He nuzzled one pouch, then the other. Starting with the top of his forehead and tipping his helm back as he moved so that the pouch rubbed against each contour and line of his face with an almost agonizing slowness.

This was when Hound woke, a soft chuckle leaving his vocalizer as his hand's movements became more deliberate. They stroked firmly from head to aft to pede, before returning to Cliffjumper's helm and repeating the motion with fingertips only.

"Usually you make me wait a little longer 'Jumper. You alright?"

Cliffjumper gently nipped and mouthed the nub in front of him in response, causing Hound to shudder at the sensation.

"Guess I'm not in the mood for delayed gratification tonight, slagger."

To anyone else, it would sound like a usual Cliffjumper retort, but Hound could hear all the underlying emotions that the minibot staunchly refused to awknowledge out loud.

The hands never stopped in their steady movement over red plating, even as both of their ventilations became heavy and ragged, and what had been a slow, gentle drip became a steady stream of energon that would alternate between flowing down Hound's body and spraying Cliffjumper as he moved and arched.

Through it all, Cliffjumper never stopped licking, sucking and nuzzling the full pouches. His face covered in the sweet fluid as he prodded Hound to roll onto his back, clicking his panel open and following to lay atop the scout's body.

Hound sighed contentedly and extended his spike. Cliffjumper's hands and mouth never ceasing in their pleasurable pattern across his chest.

Being that the minibot was roughly two thirds of his size meant that Cliffjumper's head sat at his chest and his pelvic plate fit ever so wonderfully against Hound's own.

There were times when Hound was sure that Primus had blessed minibots for this reason.

So when Cliffjumper paused in his ministrations for just long enough to lift himself onto Hound's spike before reattaching himself to an over sensitive nub, it was no surprise to either of them when he invoked Primus name with a choked gasp.

The charge in Hound's energon zapped both of them lightly in time with the gentle rocking movements. There was no thrusting or bouncing, just the sweet grind and rock of their connected components.

How long it lasted neither of them knew. Just that as Hound's pouches began to flatten back into proper lines and the last of the energon flowed through the nubs they reached that inevitable point that had them both shuttering their optics and groaning out their release.

Slowly, they unraveled themselves from each other. Cliffjumper still placing lingering licks and caresses to the depleted feeding lines that caused Hound to shudder with pleasurable aftershocks.

Hound was again in recharge long before Cliffjumper, their ritual close to completion as he lay next to the green scout.

In a way, Cliffjumper supposed that he should be grateful that Hound sought him out time after time, even though it wasn't as unselfish as everyone supposed.

In a way, Cliffjumper was grateful.

He refused to let the others know how much he enjoyed this… whatever it was, but at least for now, tucked up against the scout's side as he was, he was content.


	3. Optimus Prime

**Universe:** G1  
><strong>Characters:<strong> Orion Pax, unnamed femme  
><strong>Rating:<strong> T  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> 'Breastfeeding' with robots having semi accurate human breasts. Heavy comfort kink. Death.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> I claim nothing but my own poor writing and ideas.

* * *

><p>It was one of Optimus' earliest memory files that hadn't yet been corrupted by battle damage.<p>

_His femme carrier held him close as he wailed, running in great zagging lines as gunshots peppered the ground below them._

_She grunted once, and a splash of warm passed over him as she pushed her damaged body to keep moving. _

_His wails never ceased until his frantic carrier slipped back a chest plate and pressed him insistently to a barely glowing feeding nub. She didn't have the extra nutrients in her energon to make it glow properly, she barely had enough to keep them both going period and her wound was already spilling precious drops she could not afford to lose._

_The sparkling shuddered as he latched on, sobs pressing through the comfort of feeding until he fell asleep._

_When he woke up, he and his carrier were in a small cave and she was ever so slowly petting his form. Her hands faltering as her strength gave out; she pushed the last of her energon into her feeding pouches, giving her sparkling as much as she could even as her frame grayed._

He had been found soon after that by an older dockworker who had smuggled him back to his shabby house. He and his mate had raised Orion with as much care as any could manage. They had never been approved for a sparkling from Vector Sigma, nor were their sparks compatible enough to generate enough extra code to create.

To them, Orion was a gift from Primus.

To Optimus, they had been his rock and strength. The reason he had such strong ideals.

The reason he loved each and every mech who served under him.

The reason he was Prime.


	4. BluestreakSideswipeSunstreaker

**Universe:** G1  
><strong>Characters:<strong> Bluestreak/Sideswipe/Sunstreaker  
><strong>Rating:<strong> M  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> 'Breastfeeding' with robots having semi accurate human breasts and baby carrying equipment . Heavy comfort kink. Sticky implied.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> I claim nothing but my own poor writing and ideas.

* * *

><p>*shifty eyes* I totally took this idea from the kink thread. The lovely Anon Author filled with a BluestreakSideswipe, so I had to run with that here… Thank you for the idea! You can find links in my profile to both prompt and fill.

* * *

><p>"Sideswipe! Fragging knock it off! Scratch my paint and I swear to Primus I'll kill you."<p>

"Don't be so touchy Daffodil! We've got limited space here and in case it hasn't escaped your highnesses' attention YOU are the one nearly laying on ME."

"And if you would just PICK A POSITION and stop MOVING-"

A sudden growl cut both twins off.

"I am two klicks away from removing your spikes and force feeding them to you. Either pick a position or GET OFF!"

The twins immediately quieted and looked balefully at each other, shifting their argument into silent mode as they moved so that they were each lying with their heads next to an overfull pouch.

They each lay a hand over the swelling of Bluestreak's gestational chamber, fingers twining with each other over the soft swell of the abdominal plating.

"Sorry Blue."

Bluestreak just shook his head, well accustomed to the both of their antics, before relaxing back onto the foam wedge that kept him slightly elevated.

"I wonder what it'll be like. I mean, I know it'll be wonderful no matter if it's a mech or a femme, and I know I'll love it whatever it is, I just wonder sometimes, you know, if I'll be a good creator or if I'll be terrible at it. Because you know I don't really remember my creator or really any other bot from my family except Prowl and he isn't really related to me-"

Sunstreaker cut Bluestreak off with a gentle hand to his lips.

"Don't worry Blue, I'm sure everything will work out."

"Yeah... I'm sure you're right. I just, you know…"

Sideswipe rubbed his and Sunstreaker's joined hands over the warm metal bump.

"Yeah Blue, we know."

They lay in silence for a while, each caught in their own thoughts until Bluestreak began to squirm and shudder.

"Ok guys, seriously."

Optics met across Blue's chest.

"Seriously what?" "What are you talking about?"

Whatever Blue had meant to say was cut off by the sudden increase in glow from his feeding pouches, nubs flaring brightly as the charged energon flooded them, and he gaped at his chest.

He was dripping. Dripping!

"Is that supposed to happen?"

They all scrambled to their feet.

* * *

><p>A short trip to Ratchet later had them all shuffling semi-embarrassedly back to their quarters.<p>

Ratchet had taken one look at their panicked state, seen the energon dripping from Bluestreak's closed chest plates and promptly data burst them a file on sparkling feeding and said equipment before cracking up and shooing them away.

Apparently, Bluestreak had hit his first carrying milestone. He was now capable of producing fully preprocessed and enriched energon for his growing sparkling.

The downside was that until his sparkling was less dependent on him for nourishment, he couldn't turn the feeding protocols on and off like he saw other mecha do.

So, he had to find a way to deal, somehow…

After fishing a soaked rag from his chassis and replacing it for what seemed like the thousandth time that day, Bluestreak was just shy of murdering the next unfortunate soul that came his way.

Seriously. How other bots dealt with this he had no idea, but the thought of asking one of them nearly made him cringe in embarrassment. He wasn't that desperate…

Yet.

So when Sunny and Sides got off shift, Blue himself had been placed on light duty and was already done for the day, they found an irate and irritable mate with an unholy gleam in his optics.

"Face me."

The twins did a double take.

"What?"

Bluestreak snorted.

"I said, 'FACE ME'. I feel like slag, I can't stop LEAKING everywhere and I'm going to either cry or kill someone if I don't get a distraction NOW."

Sideswipe was again first on the draw. He waltzed across the floor and gathered Blue dramatically in his arms before dipping and kissing him with a resounding smack!

Whatever he had planned, however, was derailed as Bluestreak stood back up, grabbed Sunstreaker's hand and pushed both frontliners to the floor.

* * *

><p>They lay sated, still on the floor, afterwards, Sunstreaker with his head on Blue's shoulder and Sideswipe with his head on the ever growing sparkling bump.<p>

Sunstreaker gently stroked an overfull feeding pouch, watching as the energon moved and mixed within the system.

"Wanna taste?"

Sunstreaker looked at Bluestreak's face, then back at the pouch.

He could vaguely remember feeding from his own creator, and he knew other bots around the ark did it for various reasons, but it honestly freaked him out a little. It wasn't like a wound, but it would still be taking energon out of his mate's body.

Sideswipe, however, did not seem to share his brother's hesitation.

"FRAG YES!"

He moved from Blue's abdomen to his chest so quickly that Bluestreak jumped when his hand smoothed over the nub.

"Ahhh, sure then. Just be gentle, they're kinda sensitive."

Sideswipe gave him what could only be known as a lecherous grin before turning his attention back to the prize at hand.

Sunstreaker and Bluestreak watched as he tenderly thumbed the foam mesh covered nub, energon beginning to drip again from the mere thought of stimulation.

He licked the drops from his hand before gently closing his mouth over the glowing bud, Bluestreak's optics opening wide as he gasped.

"Primus!"

Sideswipe grinned slightly, but didn't move as he tried to figure out how to get the energon to stream instead of trickle. He flicked his tongue against the nub, another gasp coming from Bluestreak but otherwise doing nothing for his task.

Sunstreaker's optics darkened as he watched his brother try to coax the thick fluid out of their mate. He didn't think it should be this arousing, not if it was meant for sparklings, but Bluestreak's reactions were clear on how he felt.

"AH! Sides, I doN'T think-mmm-that you're doing it rig-Uhhhhhmmm"

Sideswipe had obviously changed tactics and was only remotely interested in actually getting the energon to come out now. He laughed softly before returning his attentions to the soft pouch.

Sunstreaker looked down at the one closest to him. Accessing the sparkling data he found that there was a certain piece of code that the sparklings transmitted through their mouth that helped the energon flow in alternating long and short streams.

Activating the code, he hesitantly leaned down and took Blue's other nub into his mouth.

The change was immediate. Where Sideswipe was getting absolutely nowhere, he had thick, viscous streams that poured into his mouth in a rhythm that choked him for a second before he settled into the flow.

Blue gasped in a completely different manner then he had with Sideswipe as he felt the protocols activate. Warm, nurturing feelings and lazy pleasure hazing up his processor in an overwhelming wave and he simultaneously shrugged off Sideswipe and rolled to curl his body against the origin of the sensation. His arms came up and cradled Sunstreaker's head against the full pouch, soft coos and murmured praises streaming from his vocalizer in true Bluestreak fashion, and he stroked the yellow finials in time with the suckling.

Sunstreaker reached and locked his arms around Bluestreak's waist, pulling his body as close as possible as the calming, lazy pleasure of the feeding caught him in its grasp. Blue never stopped petting or murmuring, even when tears began to slip from Sunstreaker's optics and he shuddered with silent sobs.

Sideswipe looked on with a goofy grin. True, he hadn't really gotten any energon out of Bluestreak, but there was still time before the sparkling came and seeing his brother finally be able to let go of some of the hurt that the war had brought on them all was more than a good enough reason for him to wait until next time.

So he picked himself up and moved to the other side of the berth, nudging and sliding until he was able to snug himself up to Sunstreaker's back and flop his own arm across his brother and their mate.


	5. ProwlJazz

**Universe:** G1  
><strong>Characters:<strong> Prowl/Jazz  
><strong>Rating:<strong> M  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> 'Breastfeeding' with robots having semi accurate human breasts. Heavy comfort kink. Sticky.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> I claim nothing but my own poor writing and ideas.

* * *

><p>Prowl had never seen the point of line feeding mecha perfectly capable of drinking their own energon.<p>

For sparklings, who needed the special pre-processed and enriched energon, it made perfect logical sense. They had no other viable alternative method to get the fuel they needed, so any mecha in range should theoretically be able to produce energon fit for newspark consumption.

He also knew, however, that many adult mecha participated in feeding each other from the enriched lines and it baffled him to no end. They used up minerals and metals that might not be easily replaced on a bot that didn't really need them, therefore weakening themselves in the process. Why anyone would willingly put themselves at a disadvantage like that during a war was nearly enough to glitch his processor.

He was the only fully adult mecha onboard who had never activated his feeding protocols. One of the only ones who had never fed Bumblebee, though he had watched many of the other mecha almost jump at the chance to do so, and even now when Bumblebee was well past sparklinghood and vorns into his adulthood he still sought the feedings out.

So when Jazz had first offered to feed him, he had looked back with an expression so confused and beleaguered that Jazz had started laughing, which had rankled him more than he cared to admit and had led to him sleeping in his office for several nights until Jazz apologized.

Still, it was intriguing that so many mecha participated in something that was neither necessary or practical.

And if he really admitted it to himself, he was secretly a little jealous of the close bonds that it seemed to create within the crew.

* * *

><p>It was early morning when Jazz's head popped up and he blearily commanded the door open for a shaking Bumblebee.<p>

Neither of them said a word, but Jazz's face softened and he beckoned the minibot into the room, scooting back flush against Prowl so Bumblebee had room to lay down in front of him.

Prowl could feel the excess heat coming from Jazz's frame when he activated his feeding protocols, and watched as he unsubspaced a thick cloth that he lay just under his chest.

Bumblebee nuzzled the rapidly filling pouches before latching on and curling into Jazz's body, entering recharge not klicks later.

Prowl propped himself up to watch the younger spy feed over his lover's shoulder, Jazz's hand covering his own on Jazz's hip and twining their fingers together with a soft sigh.

It clearly comforted Bumblebee, which was consistent with Ratchet's theory that the small spy had simply been forced to grow up to quickly and this was the only thing that had remained consistent in his relatively short life, but what somewhat confused Prowl was that Jazz seemed to be enjoying it just as much as Bumblebee.

He was completely relaxed in a way that he rarely allowed himself to be. There was no tension in his frame at all, and his attention was almost purely focused on Bumblebee. Stroking the yellow helm gently and every so often murmuring or cooing words of praise and encouragement.

When Bumblebee's trembling finally subsided, Jazz waited a bit before carefully detaching him and moving him over to their couch. One feeding pouch was nearly completely depleted from Bumblebee, but the other was full and dripping from a softly glowing nub.

He clicked as he began cycling the enriched energon back into his systems before Prowl gently stroked the still full pouch.

Jazz flinched back, clearly startled by the touch before giving his mate a questioning look. Prowl had never shown any interest in his feeding system before.

"May I… May I try some?"

He looked terribly nervous, his optics shifting from point to point, and his hands twisted around themselves in a very uncharacteristic display of emotion.

Jazz gave Prowl a soft smile and simply opened his arms and snuggled Prowl to his chest, giving him room to explore and arrange himself comfortably.

It was a strange experience, being at chest level to a mech he was the same height as normally, but Prowl pushed aside the unnerving feeling and concentrated on the full pouch in front of him.

The feeding lines were special in that they were capable of creating reservoirs by stretching themselves out. The energon mixed with added minerals and liquid metals into a highly concentrated and enriched blend that was perfect for a growing protoform. The nub was covered with a foam mesh to make the feeding comfortable for both carrier and sparkling and the noises Jazz made when he ran a thumb across it suggested that it was highly sensitive.

He hesitantly leaned forward and closed his mouth around the nub, sucking gently, then harder as nothing came out.

"Eh! Careful now Prowler, jus' press yeh tongue up against th' bottom real firm."

Prowl shrunk back in embarrassment before the circle of Jazz's arms stopped him from going any further.

"Don' run away babe, I know yeh aint done this b'fore. A pre-program wouldn'ta had a need, yah? Jus' try again, Ah won't go anywhere."

Prowl hesitantly moved back and took the nub in his mouth again, this time pressing his tongue up as directed and making a pleased noise as he tasted the sweetened energon.

It was unlike anything he had ever tasted before. If this had been the only reason mecha did it he could completely understand, it was better tasting then the finest high grade and he pressed closer immediately to coax more from his lover.

Jazz chuckled and raised a hand to stroke Prowl's helm exactly like he had done to Bumblebee,

Who had just left the room with a 'thank you' ping.

He pinged back automatically before turning his attention to Prowl. He'd know that part of the reason Prowl had never done this before was that he was a pre-program. He'd never had the security of a carrier who cuddled him close and offered that safety and caring affection along with their energon, why would he think about needing it?

Truth was, they all needed it. The enriched energon was good for keeping systems working smoothly in adults. It fortified their self repair with extra materials and helped keep them running in good order, but it also filled them with a sense of comfort and belonging. It strengthened bonds between mecha and made them more aware of each other, something that was invaluable on the battlefield.

Also, it felt fantastic.

There was the lazy pleasure of feeding, the 'sparkling haze' they called it, that relaxed and mellowed out both participants.

There was also that wonderful tingle he got in his interfacing equipment every time he did it.

Not really with Bumblebee, though if 'Bee offered he probably wouldn't turn him down, but with many of the other mecha there was always the possibility for the feeding to end in a great 'face.

Which is where his processor was headed right now.

Jazz shifted to move Prowl's leg from over his spike cover and found himself very firmly followed. He glanced down to find a hand inching over his plating to rest lightly on his pelvic armor before fingertips started to trace random patterns into the warm metal.

"Ahhh Prowler. This is gonna end a little dif'rently than planned if yah don' stop that."

Prowl came off his feeding nub with a loud, wet pop and pushed upwards to give Jazz a kiss.

"Jazz, I appreciate your concern and I certainly appreciate you being so blasé about my inexperience in this, but I find that while I very much enjoy feeding from you I am not a sparkling."

Jazz looked a little confused.

"Ah know yeh aint a sparklin' Prowler, I was jus' tryin' to show yeh how nice it can be ta feed."

Prowl's leg moved with singular intent over Jazz's interfacing panels.

"You have, and I will be forever grateful that you wished my first experience be untainted, however…"

Prowl's own panel clicked open, revealing a very ready and willing spike.

"I seem to be enjoying myself in another capacity as well."

Jazz's grin lit up the room.

"Well then Prowler, let meh show yeh _exactly_ why feedin' an' interfacin' are two of meh favorite things. Jus' make sure that yeh keep sucklin' while yeh pumpin'. Tha' eensy bit 'o charge in th' energon gets pretty big pretty quick. Ah'd hate for yeh to miss that."

Prowl pushed Jazz onto his back and followed, carefully and lovingly attaching himself to a quickly refilling pouch.

He might not have understood this morning what feeding was all about, but as he slid his spike into Jazz's moist valve he threw all contemplative thoughts out the window.

There would be time for the mysteries of the universe tomorrow.


	6. PerceptorStarscream

**Universe:** TFA  
><strong>Characters:<strong> Perceptor/Starscream  
><strong>Rating:<strong> NC17  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> 'Breastfeeding' with robots having semi accurate human breasts. This is a snippet from my new story 'Origins'.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> I claim nothing but my own poor writing and ideas. Also, I watched a grand total of like 5 episodes of TFA. I have no real clue what went on, this is almost solely and completely based on the below meme with smatterings of additional information. Thus, it refuses to be compared in any way to cannon. VERY AU, lol.

* * *

><p>He was on the berth with Perceptor behind him, supporting his body as he clung to the two small frames that rested against his chest.<p>

He knew that he needed to do something, the carrier protocols kept pinging him, but he was so tired that he couldn't focus long enough to understand what it was they were trying to get him to do.

Perceptor gently moved a sparkling to rest on his cockpit and almost immediately the armor started to shift out of the way on its own, revealing two full pouches of enriched energon with soft feeding nubs.

The sparklings clicked and began to fight their way to the nubs, hands gripping whatever they could find, pedes scraping the metal as they sought purchase in their climb.

Starscream watched this with awe until they finally reached his feeding pouches, each eagerly attaching themselves to a nub and transmitting the code to start the energon flow.

Tears began to drip down his face as he watched them feed.

"They aren't mine, are they. Not for long anyway."

Jazz didn't answer, instead looking pointedly at Perceptor. He hadn't agreed with Ultra Magnus' plan in the first place, but it wasn't his job to question orders.

Perceptor reached around Starscream and pressed his hands to Starscream's over the sparklings.

"In this we are alike. I find myself unwilling to give them up, but have no choice in the matter. I must do as I am ordered."

Tears ran down his face and hit Starscream's shoulders before he even realized it. His spark crying out for its kin even when his processor had nothing to say.


	7. Elita One, Arcee, Hot Rod

**Universe:** G1  
><strong>Characters:<strong> Elita One, Arcee, Hot Rod

**Rating:** T  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> 'Breastfeeding' with robots having semi accurate human breasts. War related circumstances. Comfort.

**Disclaimer:** I claim nothing but my own poor writing and ideas.

* * *

><p>They were running much too low on energon.<p>

Elita One pinched her nasal ridge as she again ran through their inventory. They had so little energon, and with a sparkling that still _needed_ to feed…

She shuttered her optics and leaned her head back, tired processor sluggishly moving through various plans and solutions that were barely better than what they were doing now.

Shockwave had energon, it was getting it that was the problem. With the amount of drones everywhere and as low on energy as her femmes were they had to be especially careful not to expend what they couldn't replace.

Slag.

Faintly, she heard the muted wail that came from the starving sparkling as one of the femmes tried to keep him quiet. They were so vulnerable here, and having to care for the tiny mech only made them more so.

But she couldn't abandon him, she couldn't.

If they left Hot Rod, it would go against all of her morals, all of her instincts as a carrier. It simply wasn't an option.

Even if they died for it, she couldn't turn away the sparkling.

The wail started up again in the other room and Elita pushed herself to her pedes and out the door. She'd recharged and refueled enough to produce a little enriched energon, she would relieve the femme that clearly was out.

* * *

><p>Arcee tried to force some energon into her empty feeding lines, even just a little, to comfort Hot Rod with.<p>

"Come on Roddy, it isn't so bad. You'll get some as soon as I can manage."

The sparkling in her arms quieted a little at her voice, hiccupping sobs fritzing his vocalizer every few klicks, and patted her arm.

He was such a sweet bot, trying to comfort her even when he was thin and hungry. His protoform wasn't forming quickly, but at least it was steady.

Arcee tried again to force her feeding lines to boot and fill, cycling her own energon to try to mix up her own depleted minerals and metals for Hot Rod.

She knew there wasn't anything left, but if she could even just get a little for him to suckle on…

Hot Rod petted her lines softly, chirring and clicking, trying to encourage the feeding mix to come in.

There was nothing though. Arcee moved Hot Rod to her shoulder and shifted her chest plates back into place. She was empty, she couldn't force even a drop more out.

"I'm so sorry Roddy, so sorry."

The sparkling wailed into her neck cables even as he tried to move back down to the hidden nubs.

* * *

><p>Elita One walked in to find a distraught Hot Rod and Arcee.<p>

She rested her hands on each of their helms for a klick before taking Hot Rod from Arcee and gently pushing her to the door.

"Get some rest, 'Cee. Take as long as you need."

Arcee gave a half smile to her commander and shuffled off to the one working recharge booth they had scavenged.

Elita petted Hot Rod, her movements soothing him for the moment, and flared her EM field around them both.

Optimus had been so proud of her when they'd last been able to talk. She was surviving, not only with her group of femmes, but with a sparkling that had no way of protecting himself.

"_I am proud to be bonded to such a courageous and beautiful femme."_

Those words had bolstered her again and again. She believed in Optimus, she believed in what he stood for. This was what she could do for her team, for Hot Rod.

Hot Rod was chirring softly again, drifting into a hungry recharge, lulled by her movement across the floor and she found herself crying silently against his helm.

Chromia and Firestar were out on a raid, and she hoped that the bounty was worth the injuries they were sure to receive.

Still, she had work to do, and the longer she could keep Hot Rod sleeping the more mix she could produce for when he woke up. She picked up the piece of metal-mesh they'd found and tied it around Hot Rod and herself, snugging the sparkling to her body, and rearranged her chest plates to hold him there securely.

Her worn, paint bare fingers stroked his tiny body for a second before Elita pulled herself upright and moved to the door.

They'd survive. This sparkling was hope for their future, and she would make sure that he had one to live in.


	8. SoundwaveRumbleFrenzy

**Universe:** G1  
><strong>Characters:<strong> Soundwave, Rumble, Frenzy  
><strong>Rating:<strong> M  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> 'Breastfeeding' with robots having semi accurate human breasts. ROOBS! Sticky style.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> I claim nothing but my own poor writing and ideas.

* * *

><p>-com speak-<p>

Soundwave chose to wear a mask and visor for the simple reason that he hated censoring his natural expressions. He'd long ago decided that it was more effort that it was worth to keep his expression neutral when a mask and visor just covered his whole face completely.

Because there were times, like right now, where he was sure that the expression on his face would destroy his emotionless and stoic façade. Times like now where all he wanted to do was eject his cassettes and snarl and glare at them until they either apologized or he assigned them a punishment.

Times like now, where he had Rumble and Frenzy apparently competing against each other in an 'annoy  
>Soundwave' contest.<p>

-Rumble, Frenzy: Desist NOW –

They paid him no mind. He couldn't leave in the middle of the shift, so they weren't in immediate danger, and Soundwave refused to expose himself in the middle of the control room. He was sure that the slight glow running through his feeding lines would be noticeable anyway, but especially if he moved and called attention to himself.

-Nah Boss. We got bets with Skywarp on this!—

-I aint passin' up an extra ration of Energon, 'specially 'Warp's high grade!—

Soundwave ground his denta together as his cassettes alternated with each other on nipping and suckling in varying intensity on his feeding nubs. Tiny glossa would gently trace the nubs, sliding in patterns as Rumble and Frenzy wrote dirty words in glyph form on the sensitive mesh, before one would latch on properly and suckle a mouthful of Energon before they alternated their attack again.

He could feel the charge building slowly, fingers curling involuntarily as a particularly hard suck/nibble combo sent a bolt of pleasure through his systems. Metal screeched as his curling fingers dug into the console and he immediately felt optics focus on him from across the room.

"Problems Soundwave?" Starscream sneered even as he flicked his focus from the mask and visor to Soundwave's chest.

"Statement: Shut up."

A cackle was his only response.


	9. Elita One, Arcee, Hot Rod 2

**Universe:** G1  
><strong>Characters:<strong> Hot Rod, Arcee, Elita One  
><strong>Rating:<strong> K+  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> 'Breastfeeding' with robots having semi accurate human breasts. ROOBS! Sticky style.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> I claim nothing but my own poor writing and ideas.

* * *

><p>Hot Rod cycled his optics to try and get rid of the static in his feed. He needed some Energon, they all did, but the last few raids had gone badly. Chromia was so low on energy that they'd put her in stasis to keep her safe, just in case they couldn't get more than a few cubes this trip.<p>

He was hiding right now. With Chromia out for the count, the rest of the femmes had needed to go on the raid, just to make sure there was enough firepower. So he'd been hidden with a kiss and an order to keep quiet until someone came to get him or to power down into stasis himself if they couldn't get back to him in time.

He'd drifted into recharge, tank cramping in hunger, optics too dry to even cry.

* * *

><p>A gentle shake and happy voice had awoken him.<p>

"We did it Roddy, we got the Energon!"

His systems rebooted as quickly as they could, gyros spinning as he heaved himself to his pedes and tried to orient without falling over. His tank was so cramped, his body so weak that he could only hold himself where he'd stood, legs shaking with the effort to keep his tiny body upright.

"I have some? Please?"

It was a desperate plea, his hands were clenching at his sides as he asked Arcee. She scooped him up, optics happy and sad at the same time and opened her chest plates to reveal full pouches to Hot Rod.

His mouth worked for a second, and then he nearly slammed himself against her chest. Closing his mouth with the utmost care around her mesh nub and suckling gently at first, then in deeper and deeper draughts as it flowed into his mouth.

Arcee just cradled him close, optics bright with unshed tears as Hot Rod trembled in her grasp. Her fingers held tightly in his paint bare hand as he, for the first time since they'd found him, drank his fill.

* * *

><p>Elita One gathered her femmes and they all held each other close, celebrating the successful raid that would leave them with Energon for a vorn or more, if they rationed right. Hot Rod was being passed around, suckling from each of them with happy smiles and coos, pets and kisses as his systems tried to get him back into good order. Each of them held him, even gruff Chromia and Firestar had taken turns, delighting in keeping the only sparkling in ages alive, and now, healthy.<p> 


	10. Optimus Prime, Arcee

For Dragonrider10

**Universe:** Prime  
><strong>Characters:<strong> Optimus Prime, Arcee  
><strong>Rating:<strong> K+  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> 'Breastfeeding' with robots having semi accurate human breasts. ROOBS! Sticky style.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> I claim nothing but my own poor writing and ideas.

* * *

><p>Arcee snapped online with coolant dripping down the sides of her helm.<p>

"Tailgate…"

It was the same, always the same. Watching Arachnid tear into her old partner, the screams, both hers and his, filling her processor. Always those optics, telling her things she wished she'd been brave enough to acknowledge, begging her to live on, because Tailgate knew her. Knew it would have been easy to die with him, and hard to live on after him.

Fragging Starscream! Fragging Arachnid! Everyone she kept dear was stripped from her and it hurt to no end to see them gain peace while she still fought in this Primus dammed war.

Wiping the tears away angrily she stood up and out of the tiny area she'd claimed as her own, optics watching her own pedes as she walked.

A hand caught her shoulder and she jumped, turning off her vocalizer before her shout rang through the small base. Optimus stood behind her, optics and expression neutral as he nodded in greeting.

"Are you feeling well tonight Arcee?"

A trick question. She couldn't remember feeling well any night in vorns. Recharge brought about memory fluxes and painful emotions she still refused to sift through. Still, she answered with a half smile, "I'm fine Optimus. Nothing to worry about; just had a flux. Shouldn't you be in recharge?"

The Prime looked at her for a moment, before walking past her, motioning for Arcee to follow, and it wasn't until they were leaving base that she thought to ask where they were going, and why they hadn't at least told Ratchet.

"Do not worry about Ratchet; I have already informed him of our departure."

He stopped when they were some distance away, sitting down on the ground and beckoning for her to do the same. His hands braced behind him and he leaned back, helm turned up to the stars. Arcee folded her legs up and sat beside him, both of them simply watching a small piece of the universe as the world turned on its axis.

"I had a sparkbond, once. Long before I became the Prime, when I was simply an archivist called Orion Pax." Optimus settled more comfortably on his hydraulics. "Her name was Elita One, and there was very little I would not have done to see her happy."

He fell silent and Arcee looked at him, surprised to see tears coming from his optics. "Optimus?"

When I became Prime, I became a whole new mech. I was rebuilt, reformatted, and reborn. Our bond shattered and I watched her scream and cry, frame eventually crumpling to the ground. When she rose, she did not look at me, though I begged. She did not listen to my pleas or supplications, just walked away clutching at her spark, head bowed as though she bore the weight of Cybertron on her helm."

Arcee said nothing, her own memories of Tailgate's optics, his unspoken final words crowding her processor until there was no room for anything else.

"How Optimus? How do you deal with knowing that they're gone?"

He reached out and gathered her in his arms, his broad body encompassing her own, enfolding her in an embrace that was secure and full of compassion and caring. She felt the metal of his chassis vibrate as his feeding system hummed, pouches filling and turned away. She hadn't shared a feeding with anyone since Cliffjumper, and it had taken her ages to feel comfortable enough after Tailgate to even do that.

"There is no shame in taking comfort with others, Arcee. Let me help ease your burdens this night."

She shook, plating rattling against Optimus' as he slid back his windshield to reveal full and ready pouches, holding her firmly, cradling her against him solidly as his engine thrummed comfortingly. She hesitated, moving toward, then back, before cautiously pressing her cheek to the warm Energon before nuzzling inward to capture the nub in her mouth.

A sob, and she suckled, hands finding purchase in the many struts and pieces of kibble that Optimus' front had. Clutching to her Prime with all her strength as she poured out emotions that had been kept behind partitions for hundreds of vorn, crying for the unspoken and the unrecognized, the unseen and the ignored.

Breaking down even as she was built up by her leader's faith and compassion, his willingness to allow his soldiers to be _more_ than drones, to be appreciated and fulfilled. To know that he believed in them and shared their happiness, and their grief, boosted Arcee up as she cried for her past and embraced her future.

And cradled there, cupped against Optimus' chest, she suckled. Thick, heavy arms wrapped around her, rocking back and forth with murmured comforts in her audials.


	11. Prowl, Jazz, Bumblebee 2

Follows the previous episode with Prowl, Jazz & Bumblebee.

* * *

><p>The single most embarrassing day of Prowl's life was when Jazz had to talk him through shutting his feeding system down.<p>

Since he'd never activated it before, he had no idea what to expect. So when streams of Energon spurted from his feeding nubs, Prowl had done something that he'd never done before in his life.

He'd panicked.

Full out, nearly glitched into stasis, panic attack.

Jazz had calmly talked him through shutting the system down, but Prowl had never again activated his feeding lines. The saboteur had seemed disappointed, but had accepted Prowl's decision smoothly. Offering to feed Prowl anyway, even though he went to others for the same.

Prowl hated that.

Not that he begrudged Jazz the camaraderie and bonds with any of the other mechs, but that they all shared something with HIS mate that he couldn't. He'd walked into the Rec Room to find Jazz snuggled up to Ironhide on the couch and a rush of jealousy and sadness had nearly driven him to his knees.

But the thought of activating his lines again...

That sent horror cascading through his processor.

It was a no win situation. One that didn't have a happy solution for either of them.

* * *

><p>A ping to his com broke him from recharge. Jazz had been on a mission to a Decepticon outpost and Prowl had been up for much longer than he should have been working. He was late returning and they were all worried about what might have happened. His hazy processor recognized the signal and pinged back, jerking his frame upright in surprise as he was pinged again.<p>

He sent the command for the door to open. Bumblebee stumbled in, shaking, his optics bright and sparking. Armor plates rattling with the intensity of his tremors. He looked around the room, and Prowl realized that he was looking for Jazz.

And then he realized why.

Prowl froze. Pleading optics turning themselves to him, a hand reaching out partway before dropping. The yellow minibot hugging himself and turning to leave, trembling even more pronounced than when he'd come in.

It broke Prowl's spark to see him like that. Bumblebee was a fierce warrior and a steadfast friend. He went out of his way to see that each and every bot he saw smiled before he left them.

"Wait..."

Bumblebee stopped, turning. A hopeful look passing over his face, denta clamped down over his bottom lip to keep from crying out. He took a step toward the berth, then another. Watching Prowl for any sign that this wasn't what he'd meant.

The sound of transformation echoed in the semi-dark room and Bumblebee launched himself onto the berth. Hands stroking over Prowl's dark feeding lines, trying to coax the energon into them.

With a deep vent, Prowl activated his lines. Feeling the rush of Energon that was passed and rerouted through his mineral reserves and into the expandable pouches. It felt different this time than it had before. There was no streams of Energon that sprayed out, no feeling of terror. Apprehension, certainly, but it was something that Prowl could put aside.

He watched as Bumblebee let out a small sob and latched on to the nearest mesh nub, jolting at the sudden sensation. Stroking his hands over the minibot unconsciously in apology, optics fixed on Bumblebee's mouth as it worked. Feeling his glossa press up on the underside of the nub and the spurt of Energon it released. The tingle of pleasure and the sheer and absolute _relaxation_ that passed through his frame.

Warm feelings welled up from his spark. Optics going soft as he let his frame simply _be_.

* * *

><p>Prowl didn't remember falling into recharge. He onlined to a cold chest, disappointment washing though him at the realization that Bumblebee had left sometime during the night cycle. He had a message cued in his com, a thank you, but the lack of warm frame next to him left Prowl feeling bereft.<p>

His feeding system was still online, though one pouch was depleted entirely, and there was a puddle of enriched energon beneath his torso. Prowl stared at it, the thought running through his processor that so much precious energon had been wasted. More than that, it was the fact that he was alone that tugged his spark into uncomfortable territory. He didn't regret feeding Bumblebee, but he did regret not allowing Jazz to be his first. Optic fluid threatened to flood the cleaning ducts and overflow on to the planes of his face. Prowl had no logical reason for these feelings to be cresting through him the way they were, but the intensity of them was overwhelming. He couldn't stop them, even if he'd tried. They spilled out and dripped to mix with the vibrant purple on the berth and he covered his optics with a forearm.

A gentle hand smoothed over his chevron.

"Shuuu, Prowler. Ah'm here."

Prowl felt a thick pad placed down, and suddenly his front was flooded with warmth as Jazz slid in beside him. Maneuvering the Praxian so that he could latch onto the full pouch and throwing his top arm over Prowl's waist. The arm that had covered Prowl's face came down around Jazz's helm and with one last hitching vent, he gave himself again over to the relaxation and soothing crests of pleasure that came with feeding. Secure in the knowledge that at least this time, Jazz would be here when he onlined.


End file.
